


Taste Your Beating Heart

by bookwormywriter



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, Eldritch, Elves, F/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Original Fiction, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormywriter/pseuds/bookwormywriter
Summary: It was later in the day, when the moon was cresting low through the haze of the clouds out the windows of Iket Sotha as Olwen reclined in the steaming bath.  The trip from the Iron Hearth always left her slightly in disarray and she was content to relax and stare out of the large window of her bathing chamber over the expansive, distant mountains and comforting, familiar sprawl of ice, snow and withering trees.





	Taste Your Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Characters featured within are original creations inspired by roleplay characters from a dungeons and dragons campaign. Olwen is a winter Eladrin and Queen of Ice and Fire. Her husband is Gadael, an Eldritch-tainted creature from the Shadowfell. This is a "Wha. if My Character was Lawful Evil" idea.

It was later in the day, when the moon was cresting low through the haze of the clouds out the windows of Iket Sotha as Olwen reclined in the steaming bath. The trip from the Iron Hearth always left her slightly in disarray and she was content to relax and stare out of the large window of her bathing chamber over the expansive, distant mountains and comforting, familiar sprawl of ice, snow and withering trees. Gadael was no doubt taking sweeping passes at the wards on the upper levels of the palace, conversing with the aberrations and constructs that had been left to guard during their time away from the palace. They’d yet to see Durdana since returning, which likely meant she was in her cottage off in the sprawling woods. 

Sinking lower into the water, Olwen closed her eyes and tipped her head back as the water crested the sides of her face, the faint hiss of the melting frost on her skin melding in with the thrum of blood in her ears. There had been chatter on the winds and from the Drow that there were adventurers in the area, which had cut their visit to the Shadowfell short. An adventuring band that rose the hackles of the Drow and could make it this far Neverward was an interesting and annoying sign.

The last report had them at two days travel to the edge of her realm. 

The foolish arrogance of them.

Her eyes snapped open at the low, muffled sound of the door to the room opening and the familiar psychic presence of Gadael, now unhindered by walls and distances, swept into the room. She emerged from under the water, the steam evaporating from her skin and the droplets forming into hoar on her face. She turned her head towards him, eyes hooded from the heat of the bath and familiarity of the home and soothing, constant thrum of his presence. 

“Everything alright?”

“The Throne is seeking audience with you in the morning. As for those adventurers… They’re at the borders, they’ll be here tomorrow by nightfall.”

Olwen smiled, sharp and intrigued. “Wonderful. We’ll have to show them a grand welcome.”

Gadael smiled back, slightly too wide to be comforting, teeth just hinting at the wrong side of too much and too sharp, as he started to undo his robe. “Durdana’s been informed, she’s already begun mixing her tinctures. I doubt she’ll be getting any sleep.”

Olwen rolled her eyes and sunk back into the water, exhaling through her nose and closing her eyes, letting her body go heavy and slack, sinking to the bottom of the black marble pool. The pests arriving at nightfall was advantageous and foolish - they were either powerful, or stupid, or both. Arriving at their door, during the time when she and Gadael were both at the peak of their power spoke to their belief in winning.

It thrilled her, wanting to let them think the palace abandoned except for their constructs, thralls and other guards. Most, save for the Throne, were easily replaceable. Lull them in like insects to a web and close off their chances of escape. Let them deal with Durdana on their travel, if they survived her, they’d have to deal with Gadael. He had a way with people. 

As the water was disturbed, she opened her eyes, peering up toward the adamantine ceiling in the faint glow of the room. Strong, clawed hands closed around her hips and hauled her forward and up, and she broke the surface of the water with a fond chuckle, hands moving up to brace against Gadael’s chest.

“Missed me, have you?”

“It’s been an hour,” Gadael teased in soft lament, “a whole torturous hour.”

He was blurring around the edges of her vision, where the shadows flickered over his skin from the sconces and fireplace, parts of him vanishing into the darkness. She brought a hand up to rest on his cheek, thumb tracing along the nigh invisible seams where the truth of his powers and deepest self lay. If she pressed in with the barest hint of nail the skin would butterfly open, unfurling like a blooming flower of four petals; a maw of hungry, beautifully grotesque teeth. He turned into her palm, eyes holding her own, as she felt him relax under her touch, the borders of flesh relaxing slightly. His lazy smile widened even more, his eyes blinking in discordance; one and then the other, then the other, and another… 

Extra limbs reached for her, encircling her in an embrace that even if she wished to fight she doubted she could best. She pressed her face into the skin of his throat, exhaling slowly and enjoying the crackle of frost that bloomed over the dampness on his skin and the whine it drew from him. Her hands pressed up his skin, over his rib cage and let her fingers claw over his chest. 

When she’d bested Mab and usurped her throne, Olwen ensured the Black Diamond shattered, preventing the previous ruler ever returning from the dead. She then had shards embedded into her skin, unlike Mab she hadn’t a need for something as primitive as a phylactery. However, when she had found Gadael again, when they’d entangled themselves in one another, the final shard, which she’d kept as a trophy, had been gifted to him. After linking their essences together, Gadael had asked her to embed the shard. Had all but supplicated before her. In a mingling of aberrance and the arcane, she plunged the final piece of Mab, of her conquest of the domain, into her husband’s heart. 

Gadael’s hand cupped the back of her head, his nails digging into her damp hair and scratching at her scalp. “You aren’t worried, are you?”

Olwen scraped her teeth over Gadael’s chest and peered up toward his face, blurring around the edges of darkness that framed him; baring too many eyes, too many teeth, and started to shake her head. It had been a while since anyone had gotten this far. She stilled, letting the words settle. “Just concerned I’m a bit rusty.”

A scoff left Gadael and bubbled into laughter. “Not five days ago you vivisected a man, took his heart into your hands, and froze it while he watched you. I’d hardly call you rusty.” His hands slipped down the line of her back, mouth pressing to her temple. “You’re a force of nature, my dear.”

She pinched his side, delighting in the way it caused him to squirm and conflictingly lean in while his hips jumped out of the touch. The edges of his mouth unfurled unconsciously in response to the slight flare of pain and his head tipped to the side with a heavy sigh. 

“Olwen.”

Olwen laughed softly and stood up from the bath, stepping out onto the warm tile and with a wave of her hand dried herself off. She eyed Gadael a moment before turning and walking out of the room and into the adjoining bedroom. He approached behind her, mouth pressing to her shoulder and scraping over the skin, his hands pressed along her torso as she settled back into him, enjoying the lingering warmth and dampness. Breaking from him and climbing into bed, Olwen set to extinguishing the candles with an easy thought and sprawled out on the soft, lush sheets.

Through the corner of her eye in the haze of darkness she watched Gadael melt completely into the blackness of the room and the bed and let her eyes close. They needed rest before the storm of battle. She let herself sink into the softness and warmth that embraced her and let herself fall into unconsciousness.

\----

The cold was almost oppressive as they pushed through it; moving on sheets of ice and thick dunes of snow toward the distant, looming palace beyond a haze of bare trees. Combined with the darkness of the perpetual full moon, it was easy to see why no one ventured out this far. 

“Are you sure this is the right way?” 

Came a voice within the group and Sylkas, the elven fighter turned against the bitter winds to look toward the looming figure of their minotaur cleric, Nyke, and nodded.

“The title of the palace means fortress of winter in Elvish, we were sent to ask for aid from the Court.”

Nyke huffed, air from her nostrils puffing in cool mist as she looked toward the palace in the distance. “Let’s hope whoever is in charge is home and willing to help us, otherwise we were shifted to this plane on a dead-end goosechase.”

“Cheer up,” came the soft, vibrato and androgynous voice of Reme, the Deva monk, who laid a hand on Nyke’s shoulder. “This is a new world and realm to us. We should feel blessed to walk in it.”

Nyke eyed the looming blue figure beside her and nodded her head. They were right. This was a once in a lifetime experience. Turning to look behind them she watched the two slower figures of their group; the halfling and quick-fingered swashbuckler Peasblossom and her Goliath companion Nanth, the bard. “What do the two of you make of this?”

“I reckon it’ll be a nice place to settle once we get there.” Nanth said, sweeping Peasblossom up onto his shoulder so she was no longer hopping from footstep to footstep. “More welcoming than this cold, and that’s saying something for me.”

Sylkas waited at the top of a ridge for the rest of the group, burrowing deeper into his cloaks and furs against the biting winds. “Let’s hope. We’re showing up unannounced and asking a large favor.”

Reme passed Sylkas, leading in large strides down the steep hill; their blue skin and ornate headdress standing out against the expanse of white. “Well, fey tend to enjoy games and deals, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“You’re too optimistic for your own good, Reme,” Nyke groused as she stomped after their elegant strides and down the hill. 

“It’s gotten me this far.” Reme said with an easy smile before stopping suddenly. Their wings unfurled from under their cloak and extended out, creating a barrier between themself and the rest of the group. “Something’s wrong.”

Sylkas unsheathed his blade, eyes darting toward the trees. “What’s wrong?” 

Reme held up a hand for quiet, head tilted to the side as they observed and listened to the howling winds. “The trees, there’s something…” 

An unearthly wrenching noise tore through the valley as a sudden wave of oppression bloomed over the group and the trees, so still and unassuming, lurched toward them in large, menacing strides.

“Back!” Reme motioned toward the group, backing toward the crest of the hill. “We woke the trees!” 

“Finally,” Nyke breathed out. “Something interesting!” She barrelled forward, unleashing her greatsword from her back.

“You wouldn’t call the grass that shifted colours interesting?” Peasblossom asked, sliding down Nanth’s back and unsheathing two scimitars before throwing herself equally into the fray.

\----

It had taken several hours of planning to decide on what to do with their encroaching guests, but the more information that flowed in, the more interesting and fun things sounded. They were seeking aid. Walking directly into a spider’s web without any knowledge of the danger, and it appealed to Olwen greatly. They could play with their new toys until they got bored. 

Durdana was reluctant to keep from killing them, but promises of setting loose some of them into the woods and letting her take chase seemed to have appealed to her. The primary concern was the Deva; she didn’t know how empowered it was, and if it could sense the truth of her it would make things much more complicated. However, if they could corrupt the goodness within the Deva it would be glorious.

Normally for an audience she’d wear red, it left an impression amongst fey who knew that it was the colour Titania often wore, and it stood off against the whiteness of her hair and skin. Mab had tended toward black. Today she tended toward a royal blue with white and silver accents and a plush white fur cape while Gadael had dressed in a lush deep purple and black robe. She’d forgone her usual menace of her mithril tipped nails and instead kept the small leather bound book for her spells kept within the safety of the Throne. 

The doors to the throne room opened and the five figures advanced in slowly, eyes darting to the various sculptures and frescoes, over the high vaulted ceilings. The fighter advanced, removing his helmet and tucking it under one arm the closer he advanced toward the dias. In a tight formation they advanced, polite and slightly stiff, before stopping an appropriate distance. The elven man took a knee and as the others clumsily followed suit she let her eyes sweep over the lot of them. Weary and battered from the journey, somewhat bloodied from the shifting terrain and the savage forests that came with Gadael’s presence. 

Her head tipped to the side and she let her mind reach for Gadael’s, she could feel his curiosity and the delight that thrummed through him at the thought of what he could do to them. At the sheer amount of possibility. 

“I’ll leave the Deva to you if you leave the Elf to me.” She offered into his mind, he didn’t acknowledge her but the spike of excitement vibrating from him spiked. Offering him something so pure would delight him for days.

“You can stand,” she finally said aloud, “I am Queen Olwen Vale, this is my realm, my kingdom. This is my consort, Gadael Drasiedi. What brings you here?”

They stammered and conferred briefly, awkward in their presence before her in a way that was delightful in its innocence. Finally the Elf turned back to her, bowed his head again.

“I’m Sylkas, Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness. We come from a different plane, we seek assistance from someone of your power. The daughter of a baron in our lands has come into contact with and unknowingly pledged herself to some kind of unknowable thing. A seer in the Barony said that an ineffable powerful fey such as yourself might be able to aid us. Might be able to break the tie?”

Olwen was struck by that and brought a hand up to her face to lightly rub at her chin as she thought. A royal on the Prime Material tied to her? She’d never considered taking on thralls and bestowing power to someone before. Other beings did it. Ones lesser than her. 

“That is quite the large favor. Much to give without anything in return thus far. Ridding this girl of something that has claws in her could be very dangerous to me.”

The Deva shifted and Olwen’s eyes snapped toward them, head tipping in their direction and making a motion to give them permission to speak. “With respect, Your Majesty, you would be doing the Baron a great favor. I doubt you have much need of riches, but you’d be doing good, ultimately.”

How utterly trite and delicious. Simplistic in it’s request. Do Good simply for the sake of it. Olwen rubbed under her lip with her thumb and tilted her head back; it depended greatly on what kind of creature had its grasp on the budding warlock. From the sound of it it was either a fiend or an aberration. 

“I’d need to know more of what I’m facing before I can commit.”

“Of course, we can do whatever we can to give you the information needed.”

“I’ll need the name of the girl, any symptoms she’s displaying, any information on what could be latched onto her…” Olwen turned to one of the constructs by the Throne. “Fetch me a journal.”

It bowed it’s head and made it’s way toward a side room and Olwen turned back toward the group. “You will tell me all the information you can and I will research, we will conviene once more in the morning. I will see to it that you are tended to for the night.”

“That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty.” The Elf said softly. “We cannot offer much in terms of repayment.”

Olwen waved a hand in dismissal, taking the journal from the construct once it returned. “I’m sure I can think of something appropriate and within your capabilities once everything is settled. Now, tell me what your names are and what you know.”

\----

It was a Balor from all she could gather, an easy enough foe for herself and Gadael. Banishing it would give her access to her own potential warlock and wasn’t that an exciting prospect? 

“I haven’t seen you this giddy since the first time I showed you into the depths below the Skins,” Gadael commented from where he was sprawled easily on a low couch in their room. “You’re like a cat with a mouse.”

Olwen hummed thoughtfully and moved toward him, batting his feet off the seat before sitting beside him and resting her cheek to his chest. “They’re so unbelievably trusting. It would be endearing if it wasn’t so foolish.”

Gadael chuckled and threaded his fingers into her loose hair. “It’s both. They’re so open and vulnerable, just asking for it…”

Olwen hummed, eyes falling shut a moment at the light petting before idly slipping her hand into the folds of Gadael’s robes. Pressing her palm flat on his sternum and feeling the strong thrum of his heart beat. “Not to mention having a person on the Prime Material; eyes and ears. It’s like a long term pet project.”

“I love how sadistic you are.” Gadael murmured, mouth pressing to the shell of her ear. 

“I know,” Olwen responded. She pressed her palm flat again, flaring out her fingers before discharging a violent bolt of cold against his skin. 

Gadael arched, mouth falling open as he twitched in response to the pain. His hand clenched tighter at her hair, slack mouth flaring at the edges and blossoming outward. He let out a reedy noise before going slack as the cold subsided and sensation flooded back into the spot; pins and needles and slightly on the edge of too much. Olwen slowly withdrew her hand from the spot, swollen with abuse, a black sigil burned from the cold on his breastbone, between his pecs, an entwining of the symbols they used for their magics. She traced her finger around the edge of it, pressing her lips against the hot, swollen skin and met his eyes, her own sparked with heat and mischief.

“Still love me?”

Gadael let out a wheeze that sounded utterly wrecked and brought up both hands to cup her cheeks. “More with every passing day.”

Scoffing, Olwen rolled her eyes and crawled up his body, kissing the edges of where his cheeks and chin had begun to split. Tongue darting along the dangerous edges of his razor sharp teeth. “Romantic idiot.”

Gadael sat up swiftly, gathering her into his arms and pressed a firm kiss to her mouth as his body stitched itself back into the approximation of humanoid. “Still love me?”

Olwen pushed his robe open, letting it fall off his shoulders to gather on his biceps. “Unfortunately.”

\----

It took three days for the adventurers to catch on. Watching them plead was enchanting and pathetic all at the same time. Gadael had taken the Deva aside; done something to imprison and begin the process of slowly breaking their mind. The Elf had fought valiantly to keep himself alive and able to escape but the throngs of undead, aberrations and constructs closed in on him and hauled him down into the depths of the palace. 

The three remaining had been barred from the palace and then let into the wilds for Durdana to hunt as she saw fit. She’d made a request before they were unleashed; that they be given their weapons and an hour’s headstart and that the rogue, just for fun, be feeble-minded. And who was Olwen to deny her such things? 

That left both Olwen and Gadael to their own devices to play and twist their newfound toys as they wished.

Today Olwen had finally decided that it was her turn to have her fun with the Elf. He’d been stewing for two days in the oubliette and she’d run through various scenarios in her mind. The one she’d come up with had been intriguing, merciless, and would be just plain fun to act out. It had taken very little convincing to get Gadael into her plan. They’d thrown spells at each other and screamed loud enough that it vibrated through the ducts down into the oubliette to be overheard. Then he backhanded her, enough that her jaw popped and the claws he had raked into the skin, acid and necrotic bile seeping in. Then he did it again. And then the spiked chain came out.

By the time she arrived, her cuts were red and swollen and her cheeks bruised. Her eyes lowered down to the ground as she approached the door and the small gap in the door. The sound of shuffling came from within and then grime coated hands wrapped around the bars and clear blue eyes peered out toward her, wary and uncertain. “Your Majesty…?”

She skirted back and around, pressing a waterskin through the gap and offered him an unsteady smile. “I’m sorry, I really wanted to help. I... “ She looked over her shoulder and then back toward him. “I’m ruler in name and title only, he has the power.”

Sylkas made an affronted but understanding noise and his fingers wormed through the bars. She patted at his fingers and pressed a few rations through the bars. 

“I can try to get you out but it’ll be tricky. So much in here is under his control. Even the shadows.” 

Sylkas peered up toward the grating above the cell, then back toward her. “Where are the others?”

She bit her lip. “Dead. He drew them all away.” 

He swore, pressing his hands to the stone and kicking it, and when he looked back she was sweeping toward the stairs in the distance. “I’ll work hard to get out and get you out of here.”

Olwen paused at the base of the stairs and turned, half shrouded in shadow. She gave him a vague smile. “I’m sure you will.”

\----

“How did it go?” Gadael asked, pressing the warm cloth over her cheek to draw out the pus before pressing in with the fainest bit of healing magic he could maintain under all of the rot and decay. 

Olwen gritted her teeth. “He’s open. I think an appearance from you will likely solidify things.” 

Gadael pulled his hand back, thumb rubbing along her cheekbone as the wound closed and she watched him for a long moment. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her gently on the lips. “Then he’ll get it. Then we’ll lock you in there together. Alone. Where his screams can echo off the stones.”

Olwen beamed, nose pressing along his hairline and his temple. She kissed below his ear. “You give me the sweetest gifts.”

\-----

After three more days of slow coercion and intrigue, Olwen stood ensconced in shadow at the base of the staircase close to the oubliette. Skylas was talking lowly, praying, perhaps. She liked to listen to the slow spiral into hopelessness as it widened into a gaping chasm of despair. Behind her she could hear the soft footfalls of Gadael’s boots on the stone as he descended. His third talk with their captive in as many days. Seeding doubt and poison into his mind; pressing in the terror and truth that he was alone and trapped. That Olwen was truly helpless and a puppet on strings.

It was a beautiful work of artistry. 

She felt the faintest brush of a hand over her neck as he passed and the sound of the key in the lock echoed. The man was low on sleep and malnourished at that point. Even with a weapon he’d hardly be a challenge, and Gadael proved it - jabbing the sign of inequality between them even deeper - as he turned his back and left the door ajar as he pulled over a wooden chair and sat in it, reclining easily and crossing his legs at the ankle.

“Are you ready to talk yet?”

“What do you want from me you inhuman sack of bones?”

Gadael smiled, too wide, too sharp, eyes bright in the dim - all six of them - and shrugged. “Answers. You came here seeking power and aid. You stupidly thought you could bargain. You’ve given me the name of this baron and his daughter, but you’ve never given me anything in return. You’ve, quite frankly, been boring.” He flexed his fingers, studied his nails, and then casually glanced back at the man in the cell. “And I loathe being bored. If you’ve no answers for me, then perhaps you’d like to talk to my wife.”

Olwen bit down a smile when she heard the man stuttering out a plea. No doubt in an attempt to parlay for her to be left from the madness. She watched Gadael press his toes into the stone and rock the chair back on the hind two legs, he snaked out a hand, turning his head in her direction.

“Olwen, dear, come over here if you would.” Olwen moved in close as Gadael lowered the chair back down to the floor and tucked herself against him. His arm wove around her back, hand resting easily on her hip. “Olwen, beloved, this man is being very unhelpful. He’s decided that he’s done talking to me.”

Olwen crooned, tilting her head down a bit, letting herself peer into the dark, dank hole. There was a long moment where he stared at the two of them, aghast and uncomprehending, eyes darting between the both of them. The slow look of realization over his face was wonderful. The realization that she wasn’t cowed. That her fingers easily wove into the long curtain of hair that cascaded down Gadael’s shoulder. That she was dangerous.

She offered a soft, serene smile and blinked. “Want me to talk to him?”

Gadael stood, pressing a few kisses over her shoulder and the nape of her neck before resting his chin atop her head. He nuzzled in, hand unsheathing the dagger at his hip and pressing the hilt into her hand. 

“Would you mind?”

Olwen peered up at him adoringly. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”

\----

There was something wondrous about watching Olwen work when she was in her ease and disassembling a living creature piece by piece, preserving sensation and consciousness with aid of magic. Her dove grey dress sticky and soiled with blood, her hair immaculately pulled back from her lightly blood spattered face. 

Gadael leaned over from where she was bent over the writhing, dazed body and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She pressed into his palm momentarily before grunting as she butterflied the ribs open, straightening a moment before taking a long look over her quarry. 

Sylkas was softly crooning and babbling to himself, his mind half broken from pain and mostly hazed from magic. Olwen flicked her gaze toward his face and then looked back down toward his organs. She’d started slow, breaking his fingers and knuckles, before twisting and pulling them slowly with a satisfying popping noise one by one. The howls and begging had been delicious. Then it had progressed to flaying and then finally to vivisection. 

Olwen delicately ran the tip of the adamantine dagger over the soft meat of the liver and watched the fascia split and the faintest bit of blood begin to weep from the nick. She looked toward Gadael and offered him a head tilt. “Would you like to get the special guest while I stabilize him?”

Gadael nodded and with a soft press of his lips to her temple and stepped out of the room. She set up a moment, cleaning the main spill of blood and then with a bit of concentration she pressed into his mind, grabbing ahold of his coherence and slowly bringing it to the forefront of his mind and bringing him back to awareness. 

He groggily looked toward her, dazed and locked down, and let his head loll back. “What… what have you done?”

She hushed him, stroking over his face, holding him through the shuddering gasps as pain rolled through his bodies in waves. He whined and pleaded, struggling against the magic bonds holding him down, desperate to try and pull himself back together and into some sense of self. He turned his eyes, crazed and pleading, toward the door as it reopened and Gadael walked back in, followed by the familiar, looming figure of Reme. The Deva stepped in line behind Gadael, taking in the sight of Sylkas laid out on the table passively.

Sylkas weakly attempted to reach for his friend, a weak, hollow cry of anguish and relief leaving him. 

Reme stared back blankly a moment, barely registering the sight of his friend. They turned their eyes back toward Gadael who gave them a nod and settled a hand on their elbow. 

“He’s done for, corrupted beyond belief, you need to preserve the goodness left in him.”

Reme smiled faintly and stepped toward the table, taking in the sight of Olwen petting through Sylkas’ sweat and blood matted hair. They took the hilt of the blade from Olwen’s outstretched hand and turned it toward Sylkas’ body, they reached into the body as Sylkas struggled weakly and pleaded, eyes rolling back in his head as he flopped and twitched uselessly. 

Reme’s hands closed over Sylkas’ heart, cupping it and almost cradling it gently as it went into shock in their grasp. With almost reverent movements they severed the heart and the desperate, gurgling pleas stopped and Sylkas went limp.

They stepped back from the table, hands still reverently cupping the warm heart as it gave a final beat and the blood stained their bright, soft blue hands. Their thumbs rubbed along the edge of the muscle as they cradled it as if it were precious. The last bastion of goodness left in their otherwise irreparable friend. 

Olwen watched as Gadael shifted, form slowly contorting in grotesque and wonderful ways. She moved with quick precision, wrenching the head of the once lively Elf from side to side, giving a soft noise of exertion as the tendons and bones snapped and the head lolled uselessly on the table before she stepped away. The massive, aberrant form of Gadael lumbered and lurched forward - burbling and cooing - undulating forward toward the table. 

The being reached forward, heaving up onto the table with its multitudinous limbs and tentacles, and embraced the man’s corpse. Razor sharp, surprisingly human looking hands reached from the writhing depths of the mass and clamped fast to the shoulders and hauled it up and back, off of the table. It fell, limbs splaying akimbo and some organs jostling outward from their bindings as the pooled blood sloshed over, spilling onto the floor of the cell and the still undulating, unknowable form. 

Tentacles and improper limbs embraced the body, holding it steady as a tendrils grasped tight to the head and the entire form of Gadael shuddered forward and lunged. A soft crunching sound echoed through the room and the soft, slight cooing noises emitting from the mass raised in pitch and tempo to excitable trills and a few unoccupied tentacles lashed about before grabbing and yanking at the man’s body. It broke, snapping into pieces in the crushing grip before it was released without ceremony to flop onto the ground; a gaping hole left at where skull met nape and blood and sinew strewn out.

The mass writhed, lurching toward Olwen in jerks and flailing undulations; gibbering and babbling incoherently. Slowly, with bone cracking noises limbs started to shrink and flesh readjusted. What was spineless became rigid. Gadael tucked himself back into a semblance of normalcy, shivering and jittery and, still knelt on the floor, pressed his face into Olwen’s thigh, hands clenching at her for balance. 

Olwen folded herself easily, kneeling down beside her lover and cupping his cheeks. His eyes were blown wide, mouth lax and breathing heavy. He nuzzled against her touch, pressing bloody kisses to her hands and wrists, peering up toward her in wordless askance. 

Olwen turned toward the Deva, who had turned their attention elsewhere. “Dismissed, you can return to your room; take care of that heart, you’ve saved the goodness in him.” 

Reme nodded and their attention turned back to the heart in their hands, which they cradled to their chest and left the room with the permission given.

Olwen turned her eyes back to Gadael and smiled at him, nuzzling against him and revelling in his drunkenness. “And you, dear heart, are coming to bed.”

\----

Olwen gasped and arched as Gadael’s mouth, hot, razor sharp, and talented pressed against her thigh as he rucked up the skirt of her dress. His mouth followed his hands as he kept pushing up her body, peeling away the clothing and pushing it from the mess of sheets onto the floor. His teeth scraped a line along her neck and shoulder, bringing up raised red lines and pin-pricks of blood. 

“So eager,” Olwen teased, hands unlacing his shirt and pulling the tunic off of him. “You always get like this when you watch me work.”

“You’re resplendent. Radiant. Wicked.” Gadael responded easily, undoing the bindings of her breast cloth and adding it to the mess on the floor. “Mine.”

Olwen’s eyes fluttered at the possessiveness and her hands moved to grip at Gadael, nails biting into the meat of his shoulders as she clung and arched. She moved her mouth to the hollow of Gadael’s throat and closed her eyes to focus on him and the thrum of energy linking them. The desire flowed easily, a constant loop of want and possession, and she felt hungry, almost drowning in it.

Gadael grinned at her, pulling down her underskirt and pressing her back into the pillows as he slunk down her form. His mouth pressed against her thighs again, tasting the faint bitterness of the hoarfrost that permeated, even here, before drawing up into the core of her. He pressed his mouth against her folds in reverent worship, hands moving up to cup under her ass and lift her up and closer. A low, inhuman clicking hum resonated from him and his tongue darted against her folds as his form folded open and his tongue pressed in deep.

Olwen let out a reedy noise, one hand twisting into Gadael’s hair to yank and the other slamming against the headboard to press palm flat to give her leverage to rock against his face. She let out a curse, eyes rolling back in her head, as the heat of him enveloped her, as his pseudo-mandibles gripped against her cunt and held him in place, tongue pressed in deep and nose gently nudging her clit. 

She shook at the over sensitive drag on her skin; the way his body, ever shifting, pulled her to him. One of his hands moved from under her to cup against her mons, gently pulling up on the hood of her clitoris as he nosed merciless against it. She keened, foot dragging along his hip in a weak attempt to ground herself, or push him back. He shifted with her, moving back momentarily, face once again folding closed, and sealed his lips against her clitoris and, ever so gently, tugged with his teeth.

She broke with a wail, cursing his name all the while. Shaking under him and against him as she rolled her hips, dragging the oversensitive burn of too much through her spine in painful and pleasurable tingles. When the sensations got to be too much in the aftershocks she patted the top of his head and he relented in his suckling and moved his mouth up to her hip, the dangerous teeth, which had momentarily been so delicate before, sinking in near the bone to mark.

Olwen lay on the bed, slowly bringing her hands up to rub over her face as she shook with the last throes of aftershocks. “You and your wicked, eager mouth.”

Gadael let out another discordant, pleased series of clicking noises before drawing his mouth from the bite he’d made and laid his head on her stomach to peer up at her. “I enjoy making you scream.” 

Rolling her eyes fondly, Olwen patted the spot beside herself and turned to spoon against him, intent on returning the favor. Gadael often tended to enjoy wringing multiple climaxes from her before even letting himself go once, but they were both vibrating with excess energy and need after all that had happened. So much build up for a wondrous payoff.

Gadael watched her for a moment before taking hold of her wrist and kissing square in the center of her palm. She slipped her hand down to cup his chin before leaning down to kiss him. Slow and languid, pressing her tongue against his playfully and giving a delighted noise at the mingled taste of herself and the soft, metallic remnants of blood in his mouth. She drew away, sucking on his lower lip as they parted and then let her hand slide down his body and into his leggings. From his earlier rutting against her she knew he was hard, but with is immutable body it was always curious to see what to expect.

Her hand closed around him, giving a long, sure stroke from root to tip and languishing in the long groan it tore from his throat. He arched, fingers twitching as he pulled at the sheets, and let his legs part for her. The girth of him was unexpected and thrilling as she continued to stroke, fingers lazily exploring his cock. Ridged along the sides and slightly flared at the base and the size and curve of it was welcome. The surprise was the diphallia. 

“Been a while since you’ve pulled out this party trick,” she murmured softly, amused, and pressed a kiss to his clavicle before licking to one of his nipples to suck.

“We’re celebrating,” Gadael breathed out slowly, arching up into her, “I can --”

“Don’t you dare.” Olwen hissed, hand slipping down to the base to grip in warning and Gadael shook. 

Gadael hummed and any tension left in his shoulders melted and he sunk easily into the mattress as Olwen removed his leggings and tossed them onto the floor. She reared back to study the length of him, hands rubbing over his thighs in a movement that was equal parts reverent and soothing. The long lines of his body, torso and arms wreathed in tattoos, ashen skin flush; eyes hooded and hands settling onto her hips as she swung her legs over to straddle his knees. 

One of her hands strayed from the gentle, soothing pets over Gadael’s thigh back to his hardness. Her long fingers closed around him to stroke again and she grinned at the punched out noise he made as she squeezed near the tip. It would be tight and a stretch with not one, but two, but it would also be worth it. A rare treat for rare occasions. 

“I should probably…” Gadael started and then quieted at a stern look from Olwen who was sizing him up and biting the corner of her lip. “You wanna feel it, huh?”

She peered at him through her lashes and grinned before slipping up on her knees. One hand braced on his shoulder to hold herself steady and the other wrapped around the flared base where two penii jutted from. His hands gripped her hips to help steady her and help with the pacing as she slowly began to lower down, head rolling back on her shoulders as a deep, throaty moan left her.

Her thighs trembled with exertion as she regulated her pace, sinking down before rising back up, only to slide a few inches lower. Gadael’s eyes were closed and his breathing deep and even; desperate to keep steady until she bottomed out and they let out twin whines and shudders.

Olwen’s rigidity relaxed as she slipped forward, her other hand moving to brace on Gadael’s other shoulder. “Fuck.” 

“That’s the plan, love.”

Olwen’s eyes opened to slits a moment and she let out a huff before tapping Gadael’s shoulder in a wordless signal for him to roll her. They moved until she was pinned back against the mattress and he was atop her, hands on her hips as he slowly drew back before pressing inward again, gauging comfort. When Olwen gave him the all clear with a pulse through their link he nodded and, with quick, strong movements, guided her calves over his shoulders and hauled her so her ass was flush with his thighs. Her eyes rolled back and both her hand pressed palm flat to brace on the headboard.

With reckless abandon, Gadael hitched her up as he drew out and then slammed forward, enjoying the wordless yell it drew from her as his hips snapped forward fully inside her. He caught her eyes before they rolled back again and smirked, hands moving up to cup her breasts as he fucked into her.

He reached out, mind entangling with hers; floodgates opened and the wall of sensation hit him. It was a tangle of sensation - him inside of her; her inside of him; her inside of herself; him inside of himself - it blended into a cacophony of sensations where they melted into one single essence of pleasure. Her (?) nails down his (?) back; mouths pressed together; a slowly maddening spiral of pleasure and tension. He thrust up and she ground down, using the headboard for leverage. She wasn’t close enough. Tentacles grabbed at her, they shifted, her legs fell from his shoulders as she was embraced and cradled in his lap. The sensation of her, hot inside and cold out, her touch burning with cold, her hands constantly moving…

Her mouth descended on the cold brand she’d etched into his skin and her tongue traced the lines of it - the pain so sweetly sharp that he shook against her, his hands clawing at her shoulders, tugging at her hair. 

Olwen sobbed, overwhelmed and unable to focus on anything but the constant throb between her legs. She rolled up, mimicking his thrusts and fucking into him and the sensations; her ephemeral, ethereal, psychic cocks fucking back into him in tandem. She wound a hand around his neck to cling as she reached between them, grinding the heel of her palm against her clit with a pleading noise. 

Gadael licked over her mouth, kissing until they were both desperate for air, and then pausing just a but longer until the strain became to much. He wrenched away, mouth against her throat as her head fell back with mewls of his name. Her hand curled into a fist and pounding against his shoulder in a reckless, useless attempt to ground herself back into something resembling sanity.

They swelled and broke. The orgasm so strong it almost hurt. Pressed so close that they shook and breathed together. The arcane ebb of the link fizzled around the edges and collapsed and Olwen screamed his name before her whole body stiffened in throes again, tears wet on her face and freezing into rime on her skin. Gadael forgot to breathe; forgot how to hold onto himself, and butterflied open, beautiful and terrible and unknowable.

The bed caught them as they collapsed. Olwen holding fast to Gadael and making soft cooing noises as she nuzzled into him, clinging, almost. Gadael remained inside of her until the delirium of their intense bonding passed and then slowly drew away. 

“You alright?” He asked, eyes raking over Olwen’s form - intense arcane discharge and link like that tended to leave her ruined.

She opened her eyes and nodded at him, given him a hazy smile. “Love when we let the gates down. Gets you buzzing inside my head. Kinda lonely now.”

Gadael offered her a soft smile, slipping beside her and spooning her. “I’m still in there, the static is just a bit loud right now.” He kissed the slope of her shoulder and let the ache of separation drag for a moment before it faded and was replaced with the usual familiar psychic presence of Olwen in his mind.

“I love you, Olwen.”

Olwen twisted so she could see into his eyes. “I love you, too.” 

Gadael pulled the covers over them and snuffed the candles with a wave of his hand. Their rest was earned and would be needed - they had a lot of work to do starting in the morning.

\-----

The town was quaint, in the way small human towns tended to be. It hadn’t been far from the rift and Reme had been a helpful guide. The story they told was sorrowful and had earned them a place at the Baron’s table. A tale of losing all their friends to the wilds of the Fey, to return home forever changed.

Olwen gave a small bow of the head in return for the one the Baron gave her. “I’m very pleased to meet you. Reme said that your daughter has made a deal with something nefarious. I think my husband and I can offer you aid.”

The Baron smiled wide and kissed her ring. “I’m willing to do just about anything to rid her of this thing.”

The Balor had already been dealt with. Flung back into the pit it rose from. Talks were easy. Meetings were made. A bond was forged. Anything for his little girl he said. Rid her of this demon, he begged. Anything - you’re wise, powerful, merciful. Please save her.

Anything.

Olwen walked into the girl’s room. She was maybe seventeen, laid in bed, and sat at attention when she saw Olwen. 

“You must be Katiana, I’m Olwen Vale, I’m here to help.”


End file.
